A Thief's Companion: The destruction of Mzulfarik Book 1
by Lord Kebise
Summary: The tale of an orphaned Khajiit becoming one of the most notorious thieves in history. My first fanfiction, please review and give me feedback. Blessings of the Nine upon you!
1. Chapter 1

A Thief's Companion:

The destruction of Mzulfarik

The moons shone with a pallid glow upon the mess of wood and stone that was Riften, home to the Thieves Guild, gleaming across Lake Honrich. Riften had once been a trade centre for the entire province, rivalling Whiterun in it's affluence. And, it's corruption. But those days were long gone. Now, Riften was the plaything of the Black-Briars, and had been for centuries. The city had a troubled past, ever more so now, with the resurgent dragons growing bold with the Last Dragonborn's passing. It had been burnt to the ground on four separate occasions in the last seven years, and only three of the fires were started by the dragons. In recent years, the city had become a jumble of hastily cut stone and bare logs, each time rebuilt from the only thing that survives: the Ratway, an ancient sewer network built in the early days of the city. This was the territory of the Thieves Guild, who had quickly risen to prominence in the city as the Black-Briar's only opposition, by charging the townsfolk for sanctuary from the flames underground. P'riiju was one of the few who had joined in the midst of this crisis, a dark-furred Khajiit standing out from the Nords and Dunmer that comprised Riften. She had come to Skyrim with a trading caravan when she was still a kitten, orphaned when the caravan was attacked by frost trolls amongst the tumbled ruins of Labyrinthian. The only reason she survived was that she was riding in the saddlebags of her mother's horse when it bolted. The horse ran back to their last stop, Whiterun, where a merchant by the name of Ysolda found her lying by the side of the road when the knot holding the bag came undone, and cared for her until the next caravan came. The leader of this caravan, a trader by the name of Ri'saad also cared for P'riiju for a time, until they arrived in Riften, where she was handed over to the Honorhall Orphanage, run by the sadistic Grelod the Kind. P'riiju would often sneak out, learning the arts of pickpocketing and thievery, and then selling the trinkets she stole to her friend Brynjolf in the marketplace. Then, only a month before she was free to leave the orphanage, P'riiju discovered the rumours were true: Aventus Aretino _was_ calling the Dark Brotherhood, which she discovered when Grelod's corpse was found floating into the lake with an arrow in it's heart. After this, she rushed back to the orphanage, now run by a young woman called Constance Michel, collected her meagre pile of belongings, bid farewell to the others, and left to ask Brynjolf for a place in the guild. Now, she is the Guildmaster, and is richer than anyone on Tamriel. This is her story.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Thief's Companion:**

**The destruction of Mzulfarik**

"Brynjolf, for Talos' sake, I'm practically a member already!" vented Dar'shaa furiously. " Give me a month and I'll be old enough, I just need somewere to stay until then. Once I'm sixteen, you can't refuse. Just let me stay in the Flagon, then no one will argue." Sighing, Brynjolf swore at the air, "You'll still be too young! I'm happy for you to stay at the Bee and Barb, I'll even pay for a room, but you can't join. You know what Mercer's like. He'll get Maven to put you away just so you're can't annoy him in the cistern." "What if I bring him enough gold? Mercer'd let General Tullius in if he gave him enough gold." "Fine , bring me everything you get for a few months and I'll talk to the others.", Brynjolf conceded reluctantly after several more minutes of arguing. "Great, see you when I'm of age, Brynjolf!", called Dar'shaa, already out the door and sprinting to the stables. Ten minutes later, she was on the way to Solitude with only one thing on her mind: the Red Dragon Crown. She knew the Emperor was due to visit Solitude to retrieve it after it was taken there to be safe from the Aldmeri Dominion during the Great War. She also knew that it was in a place so secret not even the Jarl's Steward knew where it was hidden. Dar'shaa didn't mind, however. It would just mean more of a reward afterwards, and more of a challenge beforehands. She decided to take as much as she can along the way, give some to Brynjolf, the sell the rest once he gets her membership to the Guild. The Crown was going to get her instant respect afterwards. Depending on if she doesn't get caught first. Markarth has a very nasty prison.

Okay, I'm in Solitude. Took forever to get here in that cart. Can you believe, I saw more bandits on that trip than there are normal people in the entirety of Riften? Just crazy. I've got a new bow off one of their corpses, though. Also three kilograms of jewlery, thirty-six silver arrows, a ring with a muffle enchantment, seven hundred septims, a glass dagger I found on a recently deceased necromancer, and a new pair of boots. Not bad for a seven-day trip. Plus I stole everything I could find from some racist ass who insulted me on the trail. He may have trouble getting into the city with no pants, I'd imagine. Now, there's a displaced farmer heading towards a new life with a wardrobe full of finery and the deeds to a hundred acre estate near Falkreath, with no idea how he got any of it. I did keep some for myself though, just a few bags of precious stones. I hope I can get a nice price for them though. Well, back to the situation at hand. I haven't eaten a decent meal for three days, since my latest culinary attempt was a blackened, half raw lump of venison. Not a sweetroll to be found. I might have a look around for an inn. I'll also visit Radiant Raiments and get some new clothes. If it's too expensive, I can always see if there's an upstairs window open. That usually works. For now though, I'm starving.

"I would like two dozen of your finest sweetrolls, and as much mead as I can drink. Also, a quiet room somewhere. I'm not going to be happy in the morning. Also, I'm a very bad singer, and I can drink a lot of mead.", I said in reply to the innkeeper's question, grinning at her surprise. "Umm… are you sure you want that? Can you actually afford it?", she gasped, noting my dirt-covered, ripped and badly scorched shirt. "How does fifty septims sound? And sorry about my clothes. I had an encounter with a very angry necromancer with an affinity for fireballs on the way here." "Perfect. You can have the attic room. It's a little dusty, but its quiet. I can have it cleaned if you'd like?" "That'd be brilliant. I'll probably be back soon. I need some new clothes." "While you're out, I'll start baking your dinner.", replied the innkeeper happily. She'd make a good profit tonight. If I don't drink all her mead.


	3. Chapter 3

A Thief's Companion:

The destruction of Mzulfarik

My head hurts. I probably shouldn't have drunk all that mead. At least they had some Black-Briar. Even if I do loathe Maven, her mead is way better than that Honningbrew bile. Don't know how they even stay in business. Anyway, I should head down to that shop near the gates, "Radiant Raiment", I think it's called. Should be able to get some decent clothes there, one way or another. Plenty of pockets. And a cloak. With a hood. Some padding won't hurt, either, these Nords still haven't worked out how to put shingles on properly, and it's very easy to slip off a roof when you're climbing through the next-door's window. And ribs take forever to healwhen they're broken in twenty-odd places. Led to some awkward questions, I can tell you. But anyway, time to go shopping. With other people's money, of course.

Well, I've finally found this store everyone told me so much about, and it turns out the proprietor hates me. And everyone else. But, the windows are locked from the inside, so I have to put up with her. She's actually very good. But very, very annoying. Hopefully she's got what I want. "I was looking for something light, but durable enough to last me for a long time, maybe a fur cloak and hood, plenty of pockets, and maybe a satchel too. Not anything too bright, either, colours that don't stand out, but look good enough to wear in front of the Jarl. Also, some light armour of some sort, if you can.", I asked hopefully. "I can do that easily, but I'll need plenty of coin before you see anything." "How much?", I sighed, as the bargaining began. We finished a little over an hour later, finally settling on a price of four hundred and thirty seven septims, far more than I had originally expected. About two hundred septims more. Still, when I came back three days later to see what she had put together, it was well worth it. For the cloak, I was expecting cowhide, wolf at best. I got the entire skin off an ice bear, with suede leather lining on the inside. Soft, fur-lined leather boots, and hardened leather gauntlets, tough enough to deflect a sword thrust, leaving my hands uncovered, with fur lined gloves for cold weather. Woven tunic and pants, with leather and Skyforge steel reinforced armour plates, all light enough for me to do anything I want in. It was perfect. I told her so, and she just scowled at me, so I paid her and left. I spent the rest of the day asking around for information about the city, preparing for my raid on the Blue Palace. I reasoned, if there was going to be a note somewhere revealing the location of the Crown, it would be either there, or Castle Dour. I'm hoping it's the Blue Palace. The Legion is based in Castle Dour, so it'll probably be in there somewhere anyway, but I'd rather only have to break in once. They tend to notice the second time round. Very annoying.


	4. Chapter 4

A Thief's Companion:

The Destruction of Mzulfarik

These courtiers are actually very polite. Much better than those "official" thieves back in Riften- Maven Black-Briar in particular. Did I mention I hate her? I do. A lot. Only good thing about Riften is her mead, and only because you can't get any other. Why? Because Maven practically owns the Dark Brotherhood, and the Guild couldn't make it without her. Also, starting a meadery is a very expensive business.

I've been searching for hours, but no one I could find has any idea where the Crown is. That, or they just won't tell me. I know where it'll probably be-the caverns beneath the city. The East Empire Company warehouse is in one of these, and there's a collapsed one that some pirates used to operate from, until their ships were trapped in there by a landslide. There's still a few left who work with Delvin occasionally, but they're thinning out a lot. Actually, the Crown could be in the Company warehouse, I mean, after all, they are financed by the Elder Council. Wouldn't be surprised. Hopefully I won't have to sneak in, because the only door is guarded inside and out, and the only other way means getting wet. I fell in the canal once, and seven hours later I was still dripping. Plus, the water is just this side of freezing the entire north solid. It's not called the Sea of Ghosts for nothing.

I'm lost. I went for a little side trip into some noble's dressing-room to "examine" their jewellery, when they decided to come home from the Palace, so I had to squeeze into a tunnel in their basement, which turns out to be an entrance to the sewers. Now, I'm lost in this place. I saw a few exits around the place, but they all ended up on the street, and that might be a little hard to explain. I need to find some kind of outlet somewhere. Back in Riften, every self-respecting thief knew every inch of the sewers off by heart. Whoever designed these sewers was absolutely useless. There's no pattern anywhere, they just dug tunnels randomly and hoped they found where they wanted to go. I mean, they aren't even straight tunnels. Absolutely hopeless.

Damn. The only exit I found that doesn't either open to the street, or go underwater gives me a twenty meter drop into what looks like one of the caverns beneath the city. If I ever meet whoever designed these sewers, I'm going to punch him in the face. Well, I'm going to have to jump. I hate getting wet.

Alright, bad news: I'm soaking wet. Good news: I'm in the East Empire Company Warehouse. Turns out the mortar was washed away, and a section of brickwork collapsed where that idiot tunnelled through the ceiling. And now, everyone in the area is staring at the water where I fell out of the tunnel. I took a couple of bricks with me when I fell, so hopefully they'll think I'm just more of the tunnel collapsing. If not, I'll have to either think of an explanation very quickly, or run even faster.


End file.
